


This Is Home

by Enna_of_the_Stars (CDSE)



Series: Rainbows Only His Eyes Can See [1]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Anxiety, Awkwardness, Everyone Loves Natsume Takashi, Found Family, Gen, Natsume Takashi Protection Squad, Natsume Takashi loves his family, Panic Attacks, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, author is an absolute fool and doesn't get how tags work, brief yokai mention, fujiwaras are a blessing on this earth, good teachers good classmates, kitamoto is just trying to protect his best friend/boyfriend, let natsume have family, natsume deserves love, natsume just moving in with the Fujiwaras, natsume yuujinchou big bang 2k19, no beta we die like men, reiko is briefly mentioned, sasada is good class rep, shigeru is good dad, someone protect Natsume, the class adopts natsume instantly, touko is good mom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 04:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20285587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CDSE/pseuds/Enna_of_the_Stars
Summary: Natsume Takashi has never really had a place where he could settle down and call home, but that was before the Fujiwaras came along and bundled him away to a little town called Yatsuhara.A ficlet about Natsume first moving in with the Fujiwaras and learning to break the habits that he's built over the years from constantly terrible relatives. Also, the Natsume Protection Squad develops instantly the moment Natsume walks into class. It just happens. That's it, there's no going back, the class just adopts him and Nishimura will fight anyone and everyone that will hurt Natsume.Part of the "Rainbows Only His Eyes Can See" universe!





	1. welcome home

**Author's Note:**

> This was for the Natsume Yuujinchou Summer Big Bang of 2k19! It was super fun writing this and having the wonderful artist AristocatSlippers make some art for the fic! She has single handedly kept me going through this because without those WIPs (and might I mention amazing final piece), I'd probably never have the motivation to finish this, despite the fact that I might eventually add a few more chapters cause there's just too many good ideas. (The artwork was created for Chapter 2, so go there to see her work!)
> 
> Here's a link to her [Tumblr](https://floweryfandomnerd.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Or her [Ao3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AristocatSlippers/works)
> 
> And go follow the big bang tumblr and ao3 collection cause there's a bunch of other amazing artist and authors that worked together to make amazing things! 
> 
> Big Bang Tumblr: [Here](https://natsuyuubigbang.tumblr.com/)
> 
> AO3 Collection: [Here](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/NatsuyuuBigBang2k19/works)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 10/21/19: Revised and added more stuff (a total of almost 300 words I think? Also tweaked continuity throughout this chapter as well as throughout the piece).

When Natsume first arrived at the Fujiwara household with nothing but a box and the clothes on his back, he was shifty, a nervous bundle both cautious and wary. He held tightly to his single box, body seemingly wilted under the bright morning sun. Touko and Shigeru had walked into the house first; Shigeru padded upstairs to make sure the room they were going to give to Natsume was well and truly ready, just a final check in his words. Touko, on the other hand, had drifted to the kitchen, already preparing tea and snacks for the three of them to enjoy together. The door remained open, an invitation. 

Natsume shifted from one foot to the other, hands tightening around the little corners of his cardboard box, not daring to take another step further. The open door loomed before him, taking him back to the past, far into the realms of a time Natsume wished desperately not to remember. Kanegawa-san and his wife were kind enough, haven taken him after all the other distant relatives in that are threw him away. They were kind in a way that many before them had never been, letting him go to school and giving him food on an almost consistent basis barring he hadn’t done anything wrong, again . But every now and then, when Natsume would point out another guest that had arrived from the closed window and pulled curtains from above the kitchen sink, Kanegawa-san would stare at Natsume with the strangest look in his eyes. Over and over, Natsume would point out the new guest. Eventually, enough was enough. Natsume was to remain outside after school until the sun set, or else he wouldn’t be allowed to eat dinner. God, couldn’t he just be quiet and stop telling all those lies?

With the door large and gaping before him now, in front of the Fujiwara household, Natsume hugged his cardboard box closer to his body. The door was open, it never was before, not like this; it was never this inviting, this welcoming. Not with Kanegawa-san, never after that. Was this an invitation, a well and true meaning invitation into the house? _ Can I…? _ Natsume thought, before he shook his head roughly to rid himself of such an overly luxurious thought. How stupid could he be to possibly think that the door was left open for him, and wasn’t just some accident reminiscent of the Fujiwara’s slightly older age compared to the rest of the relatives. So instead, Natsume waited, patiently holding onto his single box that was worn and practically collapsing onto itself with use. He couldn’t afford to bother the Fujiwaras the very first day they brought him home after all; not after they’ve been so kind, so caring to actually desire, to actually _ choose _ him. He couldn’t possibly—

“Takashi-kun?” 

Startled, Natsume snapped out of his reverie and blinked owlishly at the image of Touko standing at the open doorway while wiping her hands on her apron. His posture stiffened immediately, grip tightening on his box as he drew himself to full attention, shoulders tense and eyebrows bunched in a mixture of worry and fear, and could it possibly be… hope?.

“Are you coming in?” Touko-san asked, voice full of nothing but kindness. 

“E-eh?” Natsume replied, blinking in confusion. Were his ears playing tricks on him? 

“Oh, Takashi-kun, quickly come in, come in! You’ll catch a cold standing out there all day!” Touko said. She then turned around and called up the staircase. “Shigeru-san, can you come down and help Takashi-kun with his things?”

Panic suddenly shoves itself into the forefront of Natsume’s thoughts and he quickly shook his head, vehemently, hair flying from side to side. _ I should cut it, _ the thought suddenly comes to Natsume.

“Oh, are you sure, dear?” Touko asks, placing a hand onto her cheek with, what Natsume would eventually learn, her characteristic expression of contemplation and worry as Shigeru peeked his head around the doorway. A deep breath and a sudden pause. Touko’s kindness shook everything Natsume had ever known and he almost spoke, but then years of having a tight rope around his neck snapped him back into reality. _The rule_. Natsume’s forgotten about _the_ rule. And with that, Natsume ducked his head down, covering his eyes with his bangs. Quickly, he bowed to Touko and Shigeru, before scuttling and banging up the stairs and away from the Fujiwaras. They, on the other hand, gave each other a look. Touko wrung her hands on her apron, hesitant in whether or not she should go back to check on the tea or not. Shigeru walked over to her, gently laying a hand on her forearm, a knowing look in his eyes. Touko nodded in understanding, glancing meaningfully at the stairs before returning to pour the tea and finish preparing the biscuit she was making. 

Shigeru made his way up the stairs, each step light. When he peers down the hallway, it is empty save for his charge anxiously looking around, unsure of where exactly to go. At the sound of Shigeru’s footsteps, however quiet, Natsume whipped around, eyes wide and hands tightly wrapped around his box. It looked like the edges were caving in. Shigeru smiled gently, the way he would any other time, enjoying the warm summer day with Touko. He gestured towards the door on his right and he slid it open. The quaint little room’s soft morning glow illuminated Shigeru and cast a light shadow onto the floor. Natsume opened his mouth in an attempt to express his gratitude when he forcibly slapped a hand to his own mouth and shut down whatever he was going to say. Shigeru, perplexed, almost had a chance to ask what was wrong, but it was too late. Natsume bowed deeply, but briefly, and rushed into the room, sliding the door as quickly and softly as physically possible. Surprised, but not deterred, Shigeru knocked on the door after a moment.

“Takashi, do you need any help unpacking?”

A beat. Then another. Shigeru was preparing to ask again when Natsume’s voice echoed from behind the paper thin door, hoarse and wavering and so, so unsure, as if he was scared to speak.

“No, thank you, I’m okay. I’m sorry for the bother.”

Shigeru frowned, confusion flickering through his mind. _ What could Takashi be apologizing for? _ Shigeru thought, before offering up another question.

“Takashi, would you join Touko-san and I for some tea after you’re done? It’s green tea.”

Once again, it took quite a bit before Natsume replied; it was hesitant and strangled, voice horse from… was that disuse, Shigeru wondered. This time it was another apology and another quick dodge to avoid interaction, citing for some reason, that he couldn’t possibly continue infringing on Shigeru-san and Touko-san’s time. Shigeru, worried and moderately disheartened at Natsume’s insistence on avoiding him and his wife despite the fact that he wanted to give Natsume as much space as he needed, wanders back downstairs to join Touko in the kitchen. 

On the table there were two mugs already full of steaming green tea. A third, empty mug of a different design was settled next to the clay teapot, ready to be filled at a moment’s notice. The dark wooden table was awash in glittering golden droplets of sunlight as the almost mid morning sun broke through the cloud of curtains and into the soft glowing atmosphere of the Fujiwara kitchen. Touko sort of grimaced, a weak smile coming to her lips, as Shigeru came in with a distinct lack of Takashi. In return, Shigeru merely replied by taking Touko by the shoulders and gently guiding her to a chair whilst rubbing soothing motions along her arms. She sighs and takes a sip of the green tea from her mug. Pulling out the chair next to her, Shigeru grabbed the forlorn newspaper lying in the corner of the table and proceeded to open it, setting himself to reading the news for the day. The two settled down, their worry slowly dissipating, but never truly disappearing; both wanted to give Natsume space, but still, they couldn’t help but want to coddle him and overrun him with as much love as possible.

Lunch time comes around, and Touko goes all out, with every one of her most coveted dishes on display and raring to go. She’s bustling around the kitchen, excited and ready to impress so much love and compassion into her cooking that even Shigeru would get jealous. Shigeru, on the other hand, is a steady presence by her side, assisting her in setting the table and washing whatever needed washing as Touko bustled her way through the cutting board and various other pots and pans. They’re a flurry, a storm of hands and food and plates and everything in between that by the time they’re done, the kitchen is not only spotless, but encased in a heavenly aroma of a lovingly cooked banquet fit for a royal entourage. 

Shigeru quietly heads upstairs to call for Takashi. Touko remains in the kitchen, shifting plates and dishes of food ever so slightly to the left, then to the right, then to a little bit in between. After all, everything has to be just perfect for their new addition to the family.

“Takashi? Would you like to join Touko-san and I for lunch?” Shigeru asks very softly, worried he might startle Natsume. He’s careful in his word choice, not wanting to force Takashi into joining. Yet again, no reply. Frowning, Shigeru continues, “If you don’t mind ,I’m going to come in, Takashi. Please say something if you’re against it, I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

There’s no reply, so Shigeru slides the door open and on the floor, asleep with his head resting atop the cardboard box, Natsume was out like a light. He’s curled quietly around the box, head resting in his arms as he lays over the box. The soft sunlight drifting in from his window illuminates his hair a satin gold, flushed with color and saturation. The air is still and quiet, save for the soft breathing coming from Natsume, and the minimal dust that does linger in the room has turned into starlight; they’re glittering crystals of sun and gold and the room is awash with glittering crystal. It was beautiful.

Carefully, Shigeru kneels down next to Natsume, his hand hovering, hesitant on whether or not he should wake the sleeping boy who obviously needs the rest.

“Takashi?” Shigeru says.

Natsume doesn’t wake; not a single stir, nor sign of awareness. Shigeru gently places a hand on the boy’s shoulder, and still, no response. As quietly as he can, Shigeru stands up and silently opens the little closet with the futon. He lays it out, careful not to awaken Natsume. Once the futon is ready, Shigeru wraps an arm around Natsume’s shoulders and another under his knees and pulls him close, lifting the sleeping boy; _ he’s surprisingly light, too light _ , Shigeru thinks with a frown. With Natsume safe and soundly asleep in a futon, Shigeru fusses briefly with the blanket, unconsciously tucking Natsume in. He lays his hand on Natsume’s shoulder, just on top of the blanket and presses down lightly, patting down a few times in reassurance. It’s a reminder that Shigeru is _ there _. He then leaves, closes the door, and lingers just outside the room before once again filing his way down the stairs back to the kitchen where Touko is waiting, anxiously wringing her hands on her apron. 

She had just finished resetting everything, from the many various plates heaped high with delicious food, to the silverware and tea already steaming in the earthenware mugs. At the sound of Shigeru’s footsteps, Touko smiles and heads towards the rice maker to add the final finishing touch to the meal, which at this point had become a banquet suitable for any king. 

“Touko-san, it looks like it’s going to be just us for lunch.” Shigeru said.

“Eh?” Touko replies just before picking up the third and final bowl to fill with rice.

“Takashi seems to have fallen asleep. Although the doctor said that he’s already recovered from his injuries, his body must still be tired, especially with everything that's changed. Let’s give him time to rest.” 

“Oh, I see. Of course. It’s only right Takashi-kun would be tired.” And with that, Touko nods once and heads to the cabinet just next to the sink and starts pulling out tupperware. “Then the least I can do is pack some of this away in case Takashi-kun wakes up and gets hungry. After all, we have to put some meat on those bones of his, he’s much too thin for my liking.”

She fishes out one box for each dish, it’s almost the whole collection of tupperware at this point. Every clear box is piled high on the counter near and still, Touko pulls out more.

“Honestly, you wonder if they were even feeding him!” Touko huffs out, a worried frown on her face. Shigeru smile softens at his wife’s obvious love for this child. He comes to her side, a hand squeezing hers, before he grabs the remaining boxes that Touko can’t carry in her hands, and the two set them down on the dining table. In a somewhat silent, but comfortable few minutes, the food is all packed away and into the fridge for safe keeping. Just enough is left for Shigeru and Touko to enjoy a good heap for lunch. 

There are oranges and reds filtering in the kitchen window, twinkling and drifting and swathing the room in the golden hour. The clouds are just perfect for sunset, built in a way so that each crystalline drop of water glistens and drips with color saturated in the way only nature could do. It’s a fiery sunset. The sky is aflame with the very same reds and oranges that fill the kitchen, except now as the night edges further and further into the realm of the awakened, blues and purples have started to wash in. Twilight drips and the world is balanced on the edge of both day, night, and all the things in between. But soon the overflowing oceans of blues overtake the day and the sky darkens momentarily before the stars wake up and wave at the inhabitants of the night. Touko sets aside another portion of food for Natsume and dinner passes without a word between Shigeru and Touko. It’s silent and quiet and the room is just filled with a worried tension. They go to sleep, Shigeru lovingly kissed Touko’s hands when they grasp at her dress to calm her. He whispers reassuring words that let the two of them sleep in relative peace, tightly holding each other, unconsciously seeking the other’s warmth and presence. 

* * *

Natsume lets out a breath of relief; Shigeru had just left the room still thinking Natsume was asleep. Roughly, Natsume grabs at the blanket that had been neatly tucked with the utmost care over his shoulders and feels his chest tighten and his eyes burn. He closes them in an effort to keep the tears from flowing. It doesn’t work; they’re spilling over, flowing like a waterfall that increases with each blink. The world is crystalline and bubbly, the water obscures everything leaving only opalescent glass panes that cover everything in sight. When was the last time he received such… such kindness? He doesn’t remember. His chest tightens again and his breaths stutter.

Kanegawa-san, Yamato-san, Satanoka-san, and all the other people that had been given him, none of them have ever been this kind before. None of them could even make the sad attempt to try. Every house was just another place waiting for Natsume to make a mistake. Every step he took, every action he made was observed with eagle eyed stares just waiting for him to mess up, an excuse to throw him away to the next unfortunate soul that would be forced to take him in. Yamato-san left him in what Natsume eventually called the void, a room of nothing but darkness and shadows and creatures lurking in corners far above and far below. Save for school, Natsume wasn’t allowed anywhere but the dark room shoved away into the corner of the house separate from the family. He wasn’t allowed to speak, because everything that came out of his mouth was a lie. That’s all he was, they told him. A liar. But he wasn’t lying, really. And yet that wasn’t the truth. Natsume was a liar.

Satanoka-san was nice enough, just the bare minimum to keep from raising any sort of suspicion, even if Natsume’s reputation already afforded her plenty of leeway to do what she wanted. Satanoka-san let him stay in a room of his own, once again away from the family. She let him go to school too and gave him some hand-me-downs to wear from her own son. But the lies that came out of Natsume’s mouth almost daily became too much, and soon Satanoka-san’s husband would quickly and efficiently silence Natsume. How dare he speak such lies in this household? So Natsume learned that his voice wasn’t welcome here. He remained silent after that. The creatures he saw, the yokai that appeared he did his best to ignore. He couldn’t cause any trouble again, he’d have to leave. He doesn’t want to leave. But this and that and everything in between only seemed to make everything worse. The yokai were relentless, curious and eager to mess with the strange child of man that could see them. Yokai chased him all around school and followed him back to the house, trying to get a reaction from the strange little human boy that spoke to air. Windows broke the moment Natsume walked by them, plates shattered the instant he saw them, things fell apart the moment he touched them. And every single time it was Natsume’s fault. He was a stupid boy, a clumsy boy. An attention seeker, no good, delinquent boy. No one wanted him. No one wanted to keep him. How could they? The rumors traveled faster than the adults could pass him around. It was getting harder and harder to find a place that would begrudgingly take him..

Another name, another place. Indifferent faces and indifferent people. Natsume can barely remember them, but he remembers the rules. They’re ingrained in his mind and wound a tight rope around his neck, coiling tight and ready to snap should he ever step out of line. Don’t speak, don’t speak don’t speak. Don’t act out, pay attention, obey, stop causing trouble. He always caused trouble. Why couldn’t he be normal just like the other kids? 

Natsume panics, sitting up all of a sudden. _ No, no, no nonono _\- He’s caused trouble again. Shigeru-san and Touko-san are going to be mad, they’re going to be mad, he’s going to have to leave again, he can’t leave he doesn’t want to leave he can’t lose everything again not again please don’t—not again I’ve messed up, I have to—

A choked gasp escapes Natsume as he bends over the warm and soft blanket that has pooled around his waist. Tears are flowing, streaming, cutting into his cheeks and soaking his hands. But his sobs are silent. The waterfall forgets to cease and the world wavers and shimmers. It’s forgotten how to breathe.

Fear and anxiety coursed through his veins and the world is obscured in a confusing kaleidoscope of fuzzy images and shadows and tears _that won’t stop_. It’s dark out and he’s cold and he wants the world to go away, leave him alone, never breathe for him again. Natsume lays back down in the soft—wait. Natsume once again sits up, panic grappling at his chest and tightening its hold. _Oh_ _god I’m on their futon, I can’t be using this, I’m not allowed to use this! _He hurriedly scrambles out from under the blanket,_ No please, I’ve messed up again! I can’t… I can’t mess up! _Sloppy and messy and full of regret and shame, Natsume hurriedly folds the futon as best as he could, no one’s ever taught him how, and shoves it towards one side of the room, unsure of where it came from; he’s too afraid to open any of the cabinets. He couldn’t possibly pry anything open knowing full well the moment he tries something will break. Even if there weren’t any yokai, he could feel it. Natsume would break whatever he touched.

Instead, Natsume shuffles to a corner, careful from years of experience to not shift the floors, to not make a sound, always close to the edge and heavy furniture, where the floor is settled and won’t creak. He curls up, back against the wall and knees drawn to his chest. Natsume messed up again. He’s broken another rule again. The tears start again.

The world fades once more.

* * *

“Shigeru-san, I’m worried. Takashi-kun hasn’t eaten a thing since he came home with us! Would you go upstairs and please make sure he comes down to eat breakfast at least. I don’t want him to get sick!” Touko exclaims, having set down a washcloth onto the counter top much rougher than she intended to. At the impact, Touko comes to herself and settles down, worry seeping into her shoulders. “Oh, oh dear, I’m so sorry, Shigeru-san. I didn’t mean to raise my voice like that.”

Shigeru chuckles and is instantly by Touko’s side, arms squeezing her shoulders in an effort to help her relax. She does. He’s gentle when he leads her to the dining table and pulls out a chair for her to sit in. He presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Don’t worry, Touko-san, I’ll bring Takashi down.”

“Alright… I’ll finish breakfast!” Touko said, jumping up in a fit of excitement, her previous worry gone, and replaced by the intense maternal love she feels for Natsume. After all, someone’s got to feed the boy!

Shigeru smiled. Touko was bustling around the kitchen again, and what a sight she is. She’s a goddess of light, radiant in all her kindness and perfect love. Such a wonderful, wonderful woman, a wonderful partner. _ What did I do to deserve you? _ Shigeru questioned as he slips out of the kitchen and into the hallway leading to the front door and stairs. He pushes up his glasses, and allows himself a moment to blink away the emotional love he feels and calm down before he heads upstairs.

A soft knock on the door later, and Shigeru is greeted by a wary looking Natsume. His hair is roughly patted down and yet so obviously all tangled up. There’s dark circles under his eyes and gods… were they puffy? _ Had he been crying? _Shigeru frowns unconsciously. Natsume suddenly looks down at Shigeru’s feet, hyper aware of the frown but not of the reason behind it. Another cursory glance and it’s obvious to Shigeru that Natsume had only just changed, the clothes he was wearing slightly askew. He notices threadbare patches and far too short sleeves. The edges of Natsume’s pants are frayed, probably from being stepped on over and over again. 

“Takashi,” Shigeru said, voice holding steady at a neutral tone. Natsume flinches, and only seems to draw within himself even further. Shigeru’s voice softens at the sight. “Touko-san is worried about you, you haven’t eaten since the day before yesterday. How about you join us for breakfast? Touko-san’s made enough for threes.”

Natsume wraps his arms around himself and bites his lip. He looks everywhere except Shigeru’s eyes. Logic dictates that he should reply to Shigeru, but he’s not allowed to speak. Don’t speak, don’t speak, don’t speak. It’s been pounded into him almost as early as he can remember; and he doesn’t know how Shigeru and Touko wanted the rules. Normally, the adults would shuffle the rules around a bit, each unique to every household. But not speaking was always the first rule to come. Natsume shouldn’t speak. No.

He _ can’t _speak.

“Takashi?” Shigeru asked.

_ No, I… I have to reply but what if Shigeru-san gets mad? It’s a rule! A rule! I can’t break the rules again… not again… _ Natsume’s thoughts are thundering and his heartbeat drowns out the noise. But it’s a chance, Shigeru has already been kinder than anything Natsume’s every had, so maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t get mad, and he didn’t seem mad the day before, right?

Natsume opens his mouth, voice wavering like the world around him.

“No, thank you. I’m okay. I’m sorry about the bother, Shigeru-san.” Silence follows Natsume’s words. He can feel the world tilting, a buzz has started and is only growing louder and louder in his ears. He’s messed up. He’s messed up, Shigeru is going to be mad, he shouldn’t have spoken shouldn’t have answered—

“Takashi,” Shigeru admonishes, suddenly acutely aware of the shaking Natsume in front of him. The tense shoulders, the tight grip on himself, as if Natsume is trying to keep himself from falling apart, everything comes into sharp focus for Shigeru. He’s gentle, when he lays a slow but firm hand on Natsume’s shoulder. “Takashi, please don’t think that Touko-san and I find you a bother.”

Natsume breathes in sharply at the sentence. 

“We chose you, Takashi.” Shigeru continues in an ever softer, kinder voice. “We chose to have and welcome you into our family, we’re _ your _family now. And I know that perhaps you may not have had the best experience with adults like us in the past, but I promise you, Touko-san and I want you to be in our family. We want to cherish you. We want to love you.” It’s been a while since Shigeru has said something akin to this, words of reassurance and emotional weight. He’s worried that maybe, maybe it was a little too much. But it was the truth, and there was no doubt in his mind about it.

A pregnant pause. Neither of the two dare to move. The air is still, but the dust floats and flickers. Morning has dawned and the sun frames Natsume from the back, shining and illuminating him until his hair glows gold and the air shimmers around him. And like a flower opening for its first bloom in spring, Takashi lifts his gaze, soft molten gold watery and wavering, filled with deep recesses of shadow and blindingly bright lights that, for a brief second, Shigeru worries at how overtaken those lights have become. But now is not the time for that. Shigeru’s hopeful smile brings out a hesitant one from Takashi and he takes a step back and Takashi takes a step forward, the two meet in the middle of a golden amber hallway. Arm firmly wrapped around Takashi’s shoulders and squeezing reassuringly, Shigeru can’t help but smile even wider and so much fonder when Takashi unconsciously leans into the touch. The two enter the kitchen.

Touko’s face lights up at the sight of both father and son and suddenly she’s bustling and setting the table; but not before she comes over to Takashi and firmly places her hands around his cheeks and pecks a loving kiss to his forehead of golden locks and sundust. Takashi feels the red hot flush come to his cheeks and the warmth of a comforting hand on his back and suddenly the world comes into focus. 

A chair is pulled for him. A bowl of warm steaming rice and chopsticks are set for him. Another bowl of freshly made miso soup is placed in a spot at the table for him. There’s a place for Takashi in this house, this _ home _ . And Takashi is frozen in his steps, just pushing the boundaries of the kitchen threshold; and as he’s lead to his seat, Takashi can’t help but let out a little watery huff. _ Can I… can I really? _ An answer from above seems to arrive because Touko finishes with the table and gently grasps Takashi’s arm and pulls him to his chair, pushing on his shoulders to get him to sit at _ his spot at the table. _

“Now, Takashi-kun, make sure you eat up okay? There’s plenty of food and your much too thin.” Touko said. “Shigeru-san, do you mind opening the window? It’s a little warm in here.” Shigeru moves to open the window and he’s just about to throw it open, to let in a cool morning breeze when Touko interrupts.

“Actually, do you mind waiting a moment, Shigeru-san?” Touko asked. He pauses and nods at her. She returns her attention to Takashi. “Do you mind if we open the window, Takashi-kun? If you think it’ll be too cold then won’t.”

Takashi sort of stutters, mind reeling at such a question. _ Why in the world would Touko ever ask him such a question? This was her home, her kitchen; she could do anything she wanted. Why would she ever ask an outsider like him? _ But something in him burst out without much input from Takashi. Like a lock shattering open, the scissors come forth and rip the rope tying his neck into a million, thousand pieces and fragments and the words that have been bottled for so long flow out and onto his tongue, igniting the air around the family with earnest hopeful phrases.

“N-no, not at all!” And with that, it seemed as if everything slid into place with a satisfying click. Shigeru amicably throws open the window and the world wakes up.

Soft and just right, the wind washes in like a tidal wave, cooling the kitchen and flooding the house. A euphony of sound enters not far behind; birds are chittering and chattering away in the trees and the sound of leaves rustling and bustling filtered in from the sink window. The clouds part and everything is glittering gold. Touko sits down across from Takashi and Shigeru takes his seat by Takashi’s side, both bathed in the sunlight, beacons in the dark. They shine bright, rays of light reaching out like wings, cloaking Takashi in warmth, and then there’s a path shining in front of Takashi, as clear as day. The first path to break away from the dark comes like the edge of dawn.

He carefully reaches out for it and comes into contact with the ceramic bowl and wooden chopsticks. Gems of color are piled into his plate, piece after piece from both Shigeru and Touko. When he looks up, there’s only smiles and fond looks of love that—how long has it been since he’s seen had such a luxury—engulf him in a fiery glowing warmth burning bright in his chest. Takashi takes his first bite. It’s color, it’s fire, it’s lightning like nothing he’s ever had before. The broken padlock holds nothing back as Takashi blurts this out; Touko laughs and Shigeru chuckles, they insist.

“Eat more, eat more!”

And Takashi does.


	2. take me home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 10/21/19: Revised and a bit of more stuff added! (I believe the whole doc including chapter one got about 300 ish words longer)
> 
> Check out the amazing artwork that AristocaSlippers made for this chapter!
> 
> (Also, might eventually add more chapters, but for now it's gonna stay like this. At least for a while.)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/gp/183624545@N04/4q5j19)

“Alright, alright, everyone settle down, settle down,” The teacher said. “We have a new transfer student today, so I hope everyone will welcome him.” And with that, the teacher nods at the twig-like figure hovering indiscriminately by the blackboard. Natsume’s hands are wrapped around his midsection, as he releases one to pick up a piece of chalk. His hands are weak and they shake slightly as Natsume slowly and carefully scratches out his name somewhere in the corner of the blackboard, taking up as little space as possible, while still making it readable just in case the teacher gets mad, because previous teachers have. The room is silent, and he can feel the piercing stares of the class honing in on every move he makes. Their stares bore deep holes within him and Natsume can sense the rising anticipation for his name to be released to the throngs of interested and curious students. When he finishes writing, there’s a collective breath as the whole class seems to relax suddenly. The constant frenzy of stares almost, almost disappear and Natsume can breath again.

“Alright, Natsume-kun, why don’t you introduce yourself?” The teacher’s voice cuts into the thick silence without much resistance. Natsume’s voice is just the opposite, slow, both methodical and heavy so that the silence fills where he pushes in every moment he pauses. The broken padlock and the stray fragments of rope have begun to creak. The lock clicks and clicks, it’s close to closing. The rope slithers up and around, reforming as it goes. But neither fully finish resettling.

“My name is Natsume Takashi, nice to meet you.” He deliberately ends it there. No use in continuing if everyone’s already dead set on believing the rumours that always hurry into a room before him. And it’s painfully obvious Natsume’s prediction is right; the moment he ends, the classroom erupts into a buzz and people are eyeing him just like  _ they  _ have always done. They whisper and collude, shifty gazes turning from stares into death threatening glares at the equally shifting Natsume. No matter how many times he goes through this, it still  _ hurts.  _ It hurts to see people like this, people that should have at least tried to welcome him, instantly throwing him aside and believing the rumors instead. It’s dark and full of shadows and the classroom seems dim. They don’t know him and they never will, he’s just that kid that no one wants.

“Well then,” The teacher’s voice once again cuts through the room, slicing the tension in two. “Natsume-kun, why don’t you sit over there, in the empty seat in front of Nishimura-kun.”

“E-eh?!” Nishimura sort of starts, snapping out of his daydreaming; everyone knew he had been napping, not daydreaming. But it’s too late, Nishimura has already over tipped the balance of his chair and yes, it seems gravity had a bone to pick with Nishimura as he flails, arms shooting up and out and waving all around before he falls, hard. The next thing he knows, the room is erupting in laughter at Nishimura, who in turn turns beet red and sputters as he sits up and meekly shuffles back into his seat. Even the teacher snorts, holding back chuckles as the entire class hysterically laughs. Natsume blinks, all the tension in the room is gone and no one seems to be staring anymore, instead they’re all laughing at, no,  _ with _ Nishimura, who can’t help but sheepishly laugh along with them, mouth apologies, to which the teacher acknowledges whilst in the midst of laughing. 

“Alright, alright, everyone back in your seats,” The teacher eventually cuts in, a kind smile already adorning his face. “Natsume-kun, why don’t you head to your desk now that we all know Nishimura-kun is back with us in the realm of the living.” 

Hesitantly, Natsume nods and makes his way through the desks; people are still poking fun at Nishimura, so most of the class pays Natsume no mind. In fact, Nishimura’s little fall seems to have dusted away any tension that room had previously, and with the sun peaking through the windows just right, Natsume’s hunched shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. People may not have been the most welcoming, but that was to be expected; it’s obvious that they aren’t exactly cruel, not like before, so Natsume isn’t as afraid this time, less wary, to let a minuscule smile ever so slightly slip out as he makes his way to his new desk.

It’s nice honestly, the day is soft, wisps of air blow gently across the courtyard of the school. The sky is mostly a brilliant sapphire, clouds of pearl providing sporadic shade. The sun is gold, as it always is, shimmering and glittering and filtering its way into the classroom so that every desk is illuminated a golden yellow. The class seems small, but it’s better this way, better than anything the cities had ever been able to offer. The tension that had drifted away didn’t melt back in, and almost every classmate was chattering quietly, just under their breaths. But it wasn’t criticism, it wasn’t gossip, just simple curiosity and it suddenly hits him like a sack of bricks.  _ I was wrong, _ Natsume thinks. The class hadn’t been like the others, the buzz that Natsume had originally perceived as gossip and scorn was actually just been that same curiosity that echoes now. They had heard the rumors, everyone knows them, but these people weren’t judging him. They were simply analyzing him, what his like were, where he’s been, what he’s actually like. And this, Nishimura kid, the one that sits behind Natsume, he’s no different either. Natsume would later know that Nishimura was not an analytical person in the slightest, at least not when it came to school. But looking down now, just before he sits down, Natsume sees a kind smile from Nishimura, who lifts a hand to wave hello.

“Sorry ‘bout that, I’m Nishimura Satoru by the way.” Nishimura smiles wider at Natsume’s slight nod. Soft spoken, and ever gentle, Natsume replies, forgetting the rope and realizing with surprise that it’s gone far, far away.

“Hello, Nishimura.”

The class is quiet after that, and when the break comes, Natsume silently falls asleep, too tired from the anxiety and fear that comes with moving to a new school, but for some reason feeling safe enough to rest, even if for just a few moments. Everyone notably quiets down when they see Natsume put his head in his arms and onto the desk. 

“I-is he sleeping?” Someone whispers.

“I think so?”

“Should we wake him up?”

“Yeah, maybe? Break’s almost over soon.” 

“Wait! Wait, wait!” A voice suddenly breaks in. Sasada hastily grabs Nishimura by the

crook of his arm. “You idiot! Natsume-kun is obviously tired! Let’s give him a few more minutes, the bell isn’t going to ring until ten after all.”

By the time the teacher comes strolling back in, everyone is in their respective seats. Natsume is still asleep at his desk, no one wanting to truly awaken him even as the bell signaling the end of break rings. They tried, but to their surprise, Natsume merely stirred slightly, face coming into view of the soon to be noon sun. When Nishimura saw the dark circles under Natsume’s eyes, he refused to let anyone else try to wake Natsume up. 

“No, I understand what you’re trying to say, Nishimura, but have to wake him up! Class is about to start soon.” Sasada said.

“Your the one that said to give him some time, and besides, look at him! He’s exhausted. Come on, Sasada, you’re the class rep if you just explain things to the teach, it’ll be fine.” Nishimura retorted.

Sasada huffed and crossed her arms. Truthfully, she didn’t want to wake up the new transfer student either, he did look really tired after all. But at the same time, as class representative, it was her duty to help ensure a good working environment in the room, and with Natsume sleeping like this, it wouldn’t do any good for the work ethic she wanted to instill in her class. Yet, something inside her said screw that. She turned around and stalked out of the classroom to the teacher’s lounge, but not before glaring down Nishimura and sticking her tongue out at him.

“Geez, don’t hafta be so mean.” Nishimura said as he turns back around to sit in his seat. The rest of the class does the same as the late bell starts ringing and Sasada comes back with the teacher. The lecture starts with no discourse, and Natsume is allowed to sleep on as student after student slowly quiets down; something about Natsume makes all of them want to indulge him just a little, even if they have only just met. As the periods come and go, Natsume doesn’t wake up until lunch comes around. He slowly shifts and sits up, rubbing his right eye lightly and squinting at the sudden adjustment to sunlight. Ethereal, his pupils glitter gold and widen briefly before turning to cat like slits, giving rise to such a bright hazel that they look exactly like liquid amber. Students’ conversations sort of drop off, as they watched Natsume blearily rub his eye. Some other student, who Natsume would soon know as his friend Kitamoto, also stopped in his conversation with Nishimura. The two couldn’t help but stare; Natsume was lighting up the whole room with his gentle glow. 

Natsume looks around, once again aware of the stares, which hastenly fall away when he looks at them. Self-consciously, Natsume grabs his bag and heads out the door, quickly shutting it behind him and fast walking away from the classroom. He shifts around, unsure of the school layout as other students that had filtered out from their own classrooms for lunch curiously looked at the new transfer. 

There were too many eyes, too many people, not enough space. Natsume’s chest tightened as the reeling stares closed in on him and the air sizzled as he felt the burn of a flush threatening and licking fire onto his ears. The quiet voices grew louder and louder, echoing further and higher. There’s a buzz in the air just like before. Natsume can feel the world disappear as the air burns cold then hot then everything is gone and he runs. And he runs, and runs, and runs and runs and runs runs runs runs—

Gasping for breath, Natsume drops to his knees and falls to the wall standing tall to his right. The world is spinning in dizzy, maddeningly warping drifts. Spot are in his vision as they flicker in and out and the rush fills his head, roaring and screaming for him to find safety and there’s nothing but the roar, the gush, the sound and it won’t stop, doesn’t want to stop, can’t stop. Natsume clutches at his chest and desperately heaves a moment too soon as he drops to the ground, hoping somehow, that his lungs would work and the air would work and  _ god why won’t anything work _ ? And it doesn’t and everything burns brilliant and painful as the world shimmers in and out of existence. The bubbles have come back. It’s foamy and watery and there’s nothing but a waterfall overflowing and drowning. Moments pass, who knows how long; eventually the torrent of water stops and the world comes into focus again, but it’s still incomprehensibly shaky. Everything wobbles and wavers as Natsume struggles to stand, leaning heavily onto the wall, using it as a support. 

Slowly, but surely, Natsume shuffles along, one hand maintaining its steadying position against the wall. The sun is still high in the air and the sound of other students laughing and talking still comes around from the corners and falls down from above.  _ At least it’s still lunch... I think… _ Natsume shakes head in an attempt to force the world to focus, and thankfully, it does—the walls straighten, the ground flattens, and the rustling of the tree leaves finally comes into the forefront—and Natsume plods along. Other students have begun to round the corner and their voices drop at the sight of the transfer student. And god is the silence louder than anything Natsume has ever heard before. It screams and screams. He turns around and gives them a quick once over, before bolting, hoping, praying, that nothing would tilt and give way when he needed it the most. One corner after the other, gravel after concrete, and eventually Natsume finds the perfect corner. It’s secluded, impossibly drowning in the concrete walls that loom up above. A few trees surround it, providing shade, but most importantly, safety. No one can see Natsume from above. The concrete practically encloses everything in a shell, a protective cocoon that even if someone comes near the corner they would have to really look in order to see anything. It’s a small pothole really, but it’s more than enough for Natsume, he’s hidden in smaller before. This could be considered one of the roomier corners. 

Natsume slips off his bag and sets it ever so gently down onto the cold ground. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes, relishing in not silence, but peaceful quiet. There’s no one around, no one to judge, no one to hurt him. He’s safe, protected, gone. Unconsciously, Natsume slides downwards, landing on the ground in a pile of twig limbs. A clink forces him to open his eyes.

Looking down, next to his foot, is the same school bag Natsume’s been using for the past few years. It’s worn, it’s old and most certainly out of style, but it’s stayed with him through all this time. He can’t remember where he got the bag, whether it was a gift or not, but either way it was the only thing he could call anywhere close to home. It was his constant throughout life; this bag was the only thing that he could count on, with its heavy strap digging into his shoulder reassuringly, reminding him it was there even after all the families that had thrown him away, all the people that had called him a liar, a thief, a problem child. This bag, with small embroidery on the tag inside with his name, “Natsume Takashi,'' was the only thing that reassured Natsume. Perhaps it was his mother that had made it all those years, before Natsume had even been born, preparing for him to enter middle school, or perhaps it was his father maybe? He can’t remember, not after everything. The rising panic settles in, can he even remember his father’s face? His mother… who was his mother again? She died before Natsume was old enough to learn her face, her voice. But his father… that voice was the only thing Natsume could remember, and even then it was hazy, barely there. The only thing that remained were the voices of those  _ things _ that followed Natsume, those people that hurt him, that had him then tossed him away, passed him along to another to suffer with. 

The tides return and the waterfall gushes and flows. Natsume gasps for air and clamps both hands over his ears and curls up into a ball; the roar comes back and fills his head drowning out all noise. It’s loud, it’s painful, but it’s everything Natsume’s ever known, and eventually it stops, just like it always had. The world flickers back. Wary, Natsume breathes heavily for a bit, letting the mostly warm summer air filter in and out, warming up his freezing fingers and allowing a warmth to blossom his chest. With shaky hands, he weakly pulls at the strap of the bag lying next to him and opens it. Inside, unbelievably, is a bento Touko had pushed into his hands that morning. It’s wrapped in a colourful cloth decorated in simple white dots on a baby blue background. A bow is neatly tied at the top, holding it all together. 

Natsume unwraps the bento with unsteady hands and is immediately surrounded by a heavenly smell. When he opens it with a soft snap of plastic, the fluffy aromas cascade and envelope Natsume in a gentle hug. Tamagoyaki, rice, leafy greens, and perfectly grilled salmon fill the bento, giving color and vibrancy that reminded Natsume of the welcoming lunch that he, Shigeru, and Touko shared  _ together. _ Carefully, Natsume uses his chopsticks to separate a small piece off of the salmon and lifts it to his mouth. The moment he bites down, the crisp outer shell of the salmon gives way with a soft crunch, revealing the warm insides of tender meat. The tamagoyaki is soft, sweet and unlike anything that Natsume’s had before. None of his relatives had ever done this, making him breakfast where, Natsume wonders,  _ Is this what love tastes like? _ Every bite is a treasure trove, perfect in every which way, golden and tender and full of the time and love that Natsume wonders if he was dreaming. What if all of this was just some cruel joke? The Fuijwaras were too nice, nicer than anyone had ever been to Natsume, too much like the dreams of family that he desperately wanted. What if they were just yokai, playing around with a stupid human child naive enough to truly  _ believe _ what was happening around him. What if the Fujiwaras weren’t huma—

“Stop it.” Natsume growls out to himself. “Stop it. They’re real. Touko-san and Shigeru-san are real! They have to be real.” 

A breath, and Natsume closes the bento. Even if the Fujiwara weren’t real, the food at least is and he has to save it. The Fujiwaras are nice now, but… so was Satanoka-san too, in the beginning. He can’t risk it. If there wasn’t any food anymore, the rest of the bento would at least tide him over just long enough so that Natsume could survive. Bits and pieces here and there would be enough. It was enough in the past, it will be now. So carefully, Natsume wraps up the bento, tucking it away safely into his bag. He swings the bag over his head and onto his shoulder, readjusting it like he had always done before, a habit, he realizes. Natsume looks up at the clear sapphire sky, the soft clouds rolling evenly, regularly over the wind’s waves and grabs at the strap of his bag once more as he methodically returns to the classroom, a few wrong turns here and there because the school was too new.. 

The bell rings as Natsume sits back down at his desk. The class settles as the teacher walks in, a different one this time, one Natsume doesn’t recognize. The lesson starts and Natsume swallows, he’s missed too many days in the past; the black board is full of incomprehensible math and everyone else seems to understand what’s going on. Natsume sets to copying what’s on the board.  _ It’s okay,  _ he thinks,  _ I can figure it out. I have to.  _ That’s when he realizes, all the periods before lunch had disappeared in a flash, and he had been sleeping the whole time, which could only mean one thing, the teacher was mad. They always get mad when he falls asleep in class. Always. So Natsume waits, hunching over, trying to make himself seem as small as possible. The earth could open up beneath him right now, and Natsume would gladly let it. Anything was better than getting yelled at. 

But the cruel words never come, instead, the lecture merely continues. Natsume hunches further down, tension released from his shoulders, exhaustion overwhelming him all of a sudden. And it's as if he was Atlas, carrying the world on his shoulders, because Natsume can’t keep his eyes open, let alone sit up in his chair. The world is looming, it’s heavy, overpowering him until there’s nothing but darkness and silence.

“Wait, Kitamoto, lemme wake up Natsume first, before we go.” Nishimura said.

“Who?” Kitamoto replies from just outside the classroom door. He had just peeked into the room to find Nishimura.

“Oh, right, the new transfer student.” Nishimura said, pointing at Natsume’s sleeping figure leaning over the desk top. Kitamoto merely raises an eyebrow. “Just give me a sec, Kitamoto.”

Gently, Nishimura taps Natsume’s shoulder. And like a whirlwind destroying all that’s in its path, Natsume snaps awake in a flurry of motion, instinctively shying away from the hand that woke him up and consequently falling out of his chair. Nishimura falls back too, shocked at the sudden movement. Kitamoto surges forward to catch Nishimura and the two fall against each other, back to chest. Natsume scrambles up, a crazed look in his eyes as he stares first at Nishimura, then Kitamoto. His eyes dart back and forth between the two, chest heaving, gasping for air. A certain urgency flashes through Kitamoto and he wraps an arm around Nishimura’s middle and hauls him out of the classroom, almost carrying the severely protesting boy. 

“Wait! Kitamoto what are you doing?!” Nishimura exclaims, kicking all the while being quite literally man handled into leaving the room. “Wait, Acchan! You can’t just—ack!”

With a lurch, Kitamoto practically throws the two of them down the stairs and away; he continues hauling the flailing Nishimura until they’re out of the school and far, far away from Natsume. 

Natsume blinks rapidly before sliding down onto the floor, chest stuttering and breath disappearing, some spirit had ripped it from him, Natsume reasoned. Why else would he be so scared? But then again...  _ I can’t believe I thought that Nishimura was a yokai… _ Natsume thought, before bringing both hands up to rub his eyes. The next time he opens them, the light is dimming and fire burns in the twilight. It’s golden hour, clouds vibrant and molten, sky burning away into black. Something about it sets Natsume off edge, something’s wrong. Hesitantly, Natsume stands back up and grabs his bag, leaving through the front of the school. Something’s wrong, it’s the familiar feeling of stares again and every hair on the back of Natsume’s neck is standing up, and yet the school is empty, too empty. Natsume hurries back to the Fujiwara house, the road stretching far in front of him. The bend in the road is thankfully familiar and it almost settles the uneasy feeling burning in Natsume with the sunset. Until he sees a shadow looming over him. A warm breath breathes down his neck, chilling a terrifyingly close.

“Natsume Reiko! Return my name!”

Natsume whips around and falls to the ground; above him is a horned yokai with no eyes and a mouth from one side of its face to the other. It opens its mouth again. 

“Return it!” The yokai screams, a void opening where the mouth is, large and gaping. It lunges forward, hands clawing at Natsume’s arms and legs. Adrenaline snapping, Natsume scrambles backwards before flipping around and bolted as fast as he can away from yokai. He trips and falls, landing on his hand and slamming on to his right knee. The gravel digs into his skin, cutting it open and forcing his blood to flow onto the sturdy fabric covering his knee. The world tilts in confusing ways and Natsume runs, faster and faster until everything is just a blur, invisible to the eye.  _ I can’t! I have to—I have to find a shrine,  _ Natsume’s thoughts run. Shrines had always protected him before, so this time, maybe this time it would work too. So Natsume runs and runs and runs, until the world darkens and there’s nothing but him and the warm breath breathing down his neck every time he turns around. 

Into the forest, over the roots and through the leaves, Natsume sees a glimpse of a staircase and staggers towards it. His lungs are burning and eating away at the precious oxygen supply that he has. Each step sends fire up his leg and into his chest, each grab of a tree trunk or root sends lava to his heart. Nothing matters except those stairs,  _ The stairs, have to… stairs. _ Natsume breaks sharply to the right, the yokai following him. Up and up and up Natsume pounds along the stone stairs until with no breath left in him, he reaches a torii gate. And the moment he passes through, the yokai screams again, but proceeds no further, because it can’t. So Natsume falls to the floor on his back, his own lungs screaming for air, and the world tilting and swirling above him as he watches, strange for the season, perfect pink blossoms dancing on the air as waves crash and break about him. He closes his eyes.

A gentle touch awakens him. Natsume sits up, wincing at the sharp jabs of pain racing from his hand and knee, but then freezes at the sight before him. Lights, golden and shimmering float up and down, dipping with each lull of an invisible wave. The touch that had awoken Natsume was one of those gentle drops of yellow landing on his nose. It flew away the moment he sat up, but it lingered, drifting around Natsume before joining the sea of lights. They surround him, seemingly trying to lead him somewhere, so Natsume follows, mesmerized by the glowing faint warmth of all the lights sailing beside, above, and around him; feeling safer than he’s been before, Natsume understands no urgency. The lights bob up and down, fluttering faster and further every time he gets close enough, leading him on until just at the crest of the hill, an abandoned shrine, long lost to the echoes of time, stands firm despite its age. 

The sun is long gone, settling down for the night and the sky is still that dusty black right at the end of twilight. Ink drenched shadows curl over the steps and Natsume takes a seat at the back of the shrine. The little lights flicker and bloom and settle. One moment they glisten and glow along the treetops, lighting up the flower blossoms, casting yellow rim lights; the next moment they twirl and dance downside up from staircase to tree and finally to Natsume, landing peacefully into his palm. Breathtaking and beautiful, the sky darkens into a velvet black and the world refocuses. There’s only the light of the fireflies and the smell of the blossoms. Natsume breathes in, letting his lungs finally, peacefully, take in the air that was robbed from it so long ago. By the time he’s breathed his fill and looks up, the stars have awoken, winking back at Natsume from the far off distance engulfed in space. 

And it’s only now, does Natsume finally recognize the meaning of the dark. It’s too late, far too late. He should’ve been back at the Fujiwara house by now, but he’s not and suddenly, the panic settles back into his chest. It grabs at his arms, his chest, clutching tight and forcing the air out of him as it snakes its way around his neck and tightens impossibly. A noose. The world falls again and flickers. In and out. In and out. It’s too cold, too cold. The buzz is back and rings in his ears infinitely loud and obnoxiously drowning drowning drowning—

“Takashi!” 

The flood stops and Natsume finds his footing, coming to the surface for the first gulp of air in who knows how long. He gasps and sputters as a figure comes rounding the corner. Natsume whips around and stares at the dark figure, overshadowed by the looming trees. But the lights around him start swirling and suddenly, Shigeru’s face comes into focus, illuminated under the glow of a thousand fireflies. A hand reaches for Natsume, patient and kind, waiting for him. 

“There you are, Takashi. You gave us quite a fright you know?” Shigeru said, jokingly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Why don’t we go home before Touko-san cooks a feast for twelve.” He winks.

The water returns, but it’s no longer a waterfall of gushing drowning liquid, instead its softened. The small droplets simply dip low and fall with a quiet pit patter. Shigeru’s eyebrows knit together as he moves forward, gently sitting down next to Takashi. He opens his mouth to speak, but closes it in silence when ever so slightly, Takashi moves closer. Shigeru’s eyes soften and he wraps his arm around the crying boy’s shoulders. They sit in not silence, but quiet. Takashi doesn’t let any tears fall with sound, but the warmth of an arm around his shoulders is enough to let the waterfall flow. And the lights continue to glow; small flickers flash and float.

“Takashi-kun!” Touko exclaims as both Shigeru and Takashi enter the house. Touko still has that apron on when she comes practically running into the genkan to greet the two. “You had me so worried! Thank you, Shigeru-san, for finding Takashi-kun and—Oh my! Takashi-kun, your hand!” 

Shigeru frowns and carefully takes a look at Takashi’s hand, and only then does he see the true extent of the injuries. Bruised and battered, both hand and knee were scraped raw only just scabbing over. The cuts weren’t too deep, superficial at most, but the bruising would only get worse before it got better and even then, the open wounds still needed to be properly cleaned and patched up. 

“O-oh, I’m sorry, Touko-san. It’s nothing, really!” Takashi answers, clenching his fist and turning it away from Touko in an effort to hide them away from her. 

“Natsume Takashi!” Touko raises her voice a slight pitch and suddenly both Shigeru and Takashi are ramrod straight. “We’re going to patch you up,” She gives a pointed look to Shigeru before continuing. “And then all of us are going to enjoy a wonderful dinner!”

And with that, Touko whisks Takashi away, pulling him into the kitchen and sitting him down in his chair. She grabs a clean napkin, lightly wetting it before returning to Takashi and rolling his pants up past his knee, dabbing at the still bleeding cut. Shigeru on the other hand enters the room a moment later, a small innocuous white box in his hand. He sets it down on the dining table and starts pulling out antiseptic, gauze, and band aids. When Touko finishes, Shigeru sweeps in, patching Takashi up. The two work in easy unison and Takashi can feel the physical burn of love coming from the two of them. And like the fire bursting with sparks, the sting of newly cleaned wounds lights another spark in his heart. 

_ He’s home _ .


End file.
